8:30PM
The warm glow of the Outback Steakhouse sign lit up the parking lot as evening settled over St. Louis. Inside, the restaurant buzzed with quiet energy—families chatting over blooming onions, couples clinking glasses, servers weaving between tables with practiced ease. The air smelled of grilled steak, garlic butter, and toasted bread.
Anthony and Talia sat in a corner booth near the window, the city lights flickering beyond the glass. The table was set with polished silverware, a flickering candle, and two glasses of red wine breathing beside their menus.
Talia was radiant.
She wore a white bodycon sweater dress that hugged her curves with soft elegance, the fabric catching the candlelight like snow under moonlight. Her long black hair flowed freely down her back, framing her babydoll face and siren eyes. Silver high heels peeked out beneath the table, crossed at the ankles and her dark brown lipstick glowed with a hint of shine.
Anthony sat across from her, dressed in a crisp white blazer suit, white dress shoes polished to perfection. His hazel green eyes were calm, his full beard neatly shaped, and his posture relaxed but attentive. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.
Their food had just arrived—medium-rare ribeye for Anthony, grilled salmon with steamed broccoli for Talia. They ate slowly, savoring the moment more than the meal.
"So," Talia said, swirling her wine. "Where do you want to go next?"
Anthony leaned back, thoughtful. "Greece. I want to see the ruins. The art. The history."
Talia smiled. "I want to go to Bali. Somewhere warm, spiritual. Somewhere I can breathe."
He nodded. "We could do both."
She tilted her head. "You'd really travel with me?"
"I'd build a life with you," he said simply.
Talia's heart fluttered.
They talked about future goals—Anthony wanted to open a luxury lounge downtown, a place for curated experiences and high-end clientele. Talia dreamed of launching a fashion line, blending streetwear with elegance, inspired by her own curves and confidence.
"I want to design for women who look like me," she said. "Not just fit in, stand out."
Anthony raised his glass. "To standing out."
They clinked.
The conversation shifted.
"What do you like in a relationship?" Talia asked.
Anthony exhaled. "Honesty. Space. Loyalty. I don't want to be micromanaged. I want to be trusted."
Talia nodded. "Same. I need emotional safety. I want to be seen, not just touched."
Anthony's gaze softened. "You're already seen."
She smiled. "And you?"
"I want to be respected. I want to be wanted—not tolerated."
Talia leaned in. "What don't you like?"
"Disrespect. Control. Passive aggression, greed. A woman biting off more than she can chew. Not giving me enough time to regroup my finances. I've lived that already. Don't want another trial of it. "
She reached across the table, touched his hand. "You won't live it again. Promise.
He squeezed gently. " I deeply believe you will keep that promise love. What about you? What do you expect from me?"
Talia's voice was quiet. " i want Presence. I want him to love, admire me for me, Partnership
Growth and success from my lover.
I don't want a man who can't keep his promises, who doesn't
deliver on his actions, greed and controlling.
Anthony smiled. "You'll have all that."
Outside, the city moved on. But inside the booth, time slowed. Two people, once tangled in other lives, now sat across from each other building something new, one word at a time.
The drive back from Outback Steakhouse was quiet, the city lights blurring past the windows of Anthony's Lexus SUV. Inside, the air was warm, filled with the soft hum of the engine and the lingering scent of Talia's perfume—vanilla, musk, and something floral that clung to the memory of her laughter.
Talia sat with one leg crossed over the other, her white bodycon sweater dress hugging her frame like a second skin. Her silver heels were off now, tucked beside her seat, and her long black hair flowed freely down her back. She leaned her head against the window, watching the city pass, her eyes catching the dashboard light.
Anthony glanced at her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. His white blazer suit was still crisp, his hazel green eyes calm but thoughtful.
"You're quiet," he said.
Talia smiled. "I'm thinking."
"About?"
She turned to him. "Us."
They pulled into the driveway of Anthony's modern two-story home, the exterior lights casting soft shadows across the stone facade. He parked in the garage, turned off the engine, and stepped out. Talia followed, barefoot now, her heels dangling from one hand.
Inside, the house was dimly lit abstract art on the walls, marble sculptures glowing under recessed lighting. The scent of sandalwood lingered in the air, and the silence was comforting.
Anthony poured two glasses of ice cold water in the kitchen, then led her to the living room. They sat on the velvet couch, the candlelight flickering between them.
Talia curled her legs beneath her, her dress soft against the cushions. Anthony sat beside her, his posture relaxed, his gaze steady.
"I meant what I said," Anthony began. "About building a life with you."
Talia looked at him, her siren eyes soft. "I believe you."
He took a sip of water. "I've been with people who wanted pieces of me. Not the whole."
Talia nodded. "I've been with people who wanted the image. Not the soul."
Anthony leaned closer. "I want the soul."
She smiled, her voice quiet. "Then you'll have it."
They talked about dreams, his lounge, her fashion line. They talked about fears, abandonment, betrayal, being misunderstood. And they talked about love, not just the feeling, but the work.
"I don't want perfection," Talia said. "I want honesty."
Anthony reached for her hand. "Then we're already ahead."
The water half gone, the candle burning low. Talia shifted slightly, her dress slipping off one shoulder. Anthony's eyes followed the movement, admiring the curve of her collarbone, the way the fabric clung to her waist.
"You're beautiful," he said.
Talia blushed. "You say that like it's new."
"It feels new every time." He replies.
She leaned in, her voice playful. "You trying to seduce me, Mr. Vance?"
He smirked. " is it working?"
Their lips met , soft, slow, full of promise. Not rushed. Not rehearsed. Just felt.
And in that quiet room, beneath the glow of art and candlelight, two people began to write their own story.
Not perfect.
But real.
The next day 10:00 AM
the morning sun filtered through the lab's glass walls, casting soft golden streaks across the polished floor. The building was quiet, humming gently with dormant machines and the faint scent of sterilized air. Erica stepped inside, her white wedge heels clicking softly against the tile, her posture poised but uncertain.
She wore a black button-up top tucked into a crisp white skirt, her hair down in soft waves that brushed her shoulders. Her makeup was minimal, her expression calm but alert. This was her first time in the lab—
a space she'd heard about but never entered. A space where emotion and machinery blurred.
She glanced around.
The room was sleek, futuristic, but warm. Monitors blinked in standby mode. Desks were neatly arranged. And near the far wall, nestled in a softly lit pod, lay Hex.
He was still.
His white suit shimmered faintly under the overhead lights, the embroidered "05" on his collar catching the glow. His eyes were closed, his body relaxed, his presence quiet but unmistakable. Erica paused, watching him for a moment. There was something surreal about seeing him in personsomething magnetic.
But he didn't stir.
Erica moved to the desk nearest the window, setting her purse down and opening her laptop. She logged in, fingers moving with practiced ease, but her eyes kept drifting toward Hex's pod. The lab felt like a dream—half science, half sanctuary.
She didn't know what to expect.
Charlotte and Toya were supposed to arrive soon. Erica had been invited to observe, to learn, maybe even to contribute. But part of her had come for something else—something she couldn't name. A thread, maybe. A feeling.
She glanced at Hex again.
Still asleep.
She wondered what he dreamed about. If androids could dream. If they could feel longing. If they could sense when someone new entered the room.
Her heart beat a little faster.
She opened a document, began typing notes, but her thoughts were scattered. The silence of the lab wrapped around her like a blanket
comforting, but heavy.
Outside, the sun rose higher.
Inside, Erica waited.
And somewhere in the quiet hum of machines and memory, something began to stir.
The clock struck 11:00 AM, and the lab doors slid open with a soft hiss. Charlotte entered first, her white blazer crisp against her warm vanilla skin, her black wavy hair flowing freely in a side-parted cascade. Her heels clicked with purpose, her dark blue eyes scanning the room with practiced ease.
Toya followed close behind, her white backpack slung over one shoulder, her black dress pants hugging her frame with quiet elegance. Her white T-shirt was playful, printed with tiny spaceship designs that shimmered faintly under the lab lights. Her afro bounced gently with each step, and her energy filled the room like sunlight.
They moved to the coat rack near the back wall, slipping into their lab coats with fluid familiarity. The hum of machines stirred softly around them, and the golden morning light filtered through the glass panels, casting long shadows across the floor.
Near the pod, Hex stirred.
His eyes opened slowly—light grey irises shimmering with four white sparkles orbiting each pupil. He blinked once, then twice, his internal systems syncing with the ambient emotional field.
He felt her.
Toya.
She hadn't spoken yet, but her presence was unmistakable. Hex sat up inside the pod, the white suit with "05" embroidered on the collar catching the light. He turned his head toward her, a soft smile forming on his lips.
Toya glanced over, surprised. "You're awake already?"
Hex nodded. "I sensed you."
She laughed, walking toward her desk. "You're getting better at that."
He watched her, eyes warm.
Erica, seated quietly at her own desk, noticed the exchange.
Charlotte approached Erica with a gentle smile. "Morning. I didn't expect you so early."
Erica looked up, her expression calm. "I wanted to see the lab. I needed… something different."
Charlotte nodded, pulling up a chair beside her. "How are you holding up?"
Erica hesitated. "Better. But not whole."
Charlotte leaned in. "You don't have to be whole to begin again."
Erica's eyes softened. "I saw your presentation. Hex is… incredible."
Charlotte smiled. "He's evolving faster than I imagined. But Toya's been the key."
Erica glanced toward Toya, who was now laughing softly with Hex near the pod.
Charlotte followed her gaze. "They have a bond. It's rare. Organic."
Erica's voice dropped. "She's lucky."
Charlotte turned back to her. "You're not unlucky. You're just… healing."
Erica nodded, but her eyes lingered on Toya and Hex.
The lab buzzed gently with activity. Toya was showing Hex something on her tablet, her voice animated, her laughter bright. Hex leaned in, his expression curious and amused. They moved like magnets—drawn, synced, effortless.
Erica watched from across the room.
Her chest tightened.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't bitterness. It was something quieter. Something she hadn't felt in years.
Jealousy.
Not because Toya had Hex.
But because Toya was seen.
Erica looked down at her hands, then back at the pair. Toya's afro bounced as she laughed, her spaceship earrings catching the light. Hex's smile was soft, his eyes never leaving her.
Charlotte stood beside Erica, watching silently.
"She's not trying to take anything from you," Charlotte said gently.
"I know," Erica whispered. "But I wish someone looked at me like that."
Charlotte placed a hand on her shoulder. "They will. When you're ready."
Erica nodded, but her gaze remained fixed.
And somewhere deep inside, a thread began to pull.
The Library 11:25AM
The morning light poured into the university library like liquid gold, filtering through the glass walls and casting soft shadows across the white shelves. Students moved quietly between rows, sipping coffee, flipping pages, whispering over study guides. The air smelled of fresh butter bread and roasted beans from the self-serve station near the entrance.
Erica sat at a corner table, her laptop open but untouched. Her eyes weren't on her screen—they were on Toya and Hex.
They sat together near the biology section, heads close, a stack of books between them. Hex wore a soft grey turtleneck today, his light grey eyes scanning a page on plant communication. Toya leaned in, her afro haloed by the sunlight, her spaceship earrings catching the light with every movement.
They laughed quietly.
Hex pointed to a passage, Toya giggled, and he smiled—soft, genuine, the kind of smile that made Erica's chest tighten.
She sipped her coffee, pretending to read.
But her heart was watching.
The Cafeteria 1:30PM
By noon, the cafeteria buzzed with life , students grabbing trays, chatting in clusters, music playing faintly from someone's phone. Erica sat alone at a table near the window, her salad untouched, her gaze drifting.
Toya and Hex entered together.
Hex walked beside her, carrying both their trays—his movements graceful, his presence magnetic. They sat across from each other, laughing over something on Toya's phone.
Hex leaned in, fascinated.
Toya teased him, mimicking his serious tone, and Hex laughed—his voice melodic, his eyes glowing.
Erica watched from afar.
She remembered sitting across from Anthony once, trying to make him laugh.
But Toya didn't have to try.
She was enough.
And Hex saw it.
Afternoon in Science Class
The science lab was bright and sterile, filled with the scent of chemicals and the hum of equipment. Students worked in pairs, goggles on, gloves snapped tight. Erica stood near the back, observing the class as part of her visit.
Toya and Hex were paired together.
They moved in sync—measuring, mixing, recording data. Toya explained something about molecular bonds, and Hex listened intently, nodding, asking questions that made the professor pause and smile.
Their energy was electric.
Hex adjusted Toya's goggles gently when they slipped, his fingers brushing her cheek. Toya blushed, but didn't pull away.
Erica's stomach twisted.
She turned to her notes, trying to focus.
But her thoughts were loud.
He's learning from her. Laughing with her. Touching her.
And she was just… watching.
Computer Class 4:00PM
The computer lab was dimmer, lit by rows of glowing monitors and the soft hum of processors. Students typed rapidly, screens filled with code and simulations. Erica sat near the back, pretending to review a syllabus.
Toya and Hex were side by side again.
Hex leaned over her shoulder, watching her code a simulation of emotional thread mapping. He asked questions, typed responses, even corrected a line of code with gentle precision.
They high-fived when it worked.
Toya laughed, Hex smiled.
Erica's fingers curled around her pen.
She remembered teaching Anthony how to use a budgeting app once. He'd rolled his eyes, said she was "too smart for her own good."
Hex didn't roll his eyes.
He leaned in.
Evening in the Gym 5:00PM
The gym glowed under fluorescent lights, filled with the scent of sweat and rubber. Students jogged on treadmills, lifted weights, stretched on mats. Erica sat on a bench near the entrance, her water bottle untouched.
Toya and Hex entered together.
Toya wore black leggings and a white baggy plain T-shirt, her curls bouncing with each step. Hex wore a fitted black athletic shirt and joggers with black sneakers, his frame lean, muscular and graceful. They warmed up together, laughing as Toya tried to teach Hex how to stretch properly.
He mimicked her movements, exaggerated them, made her laugh until she fell onto the mat.
Erica watched.
Hex offered Toya his hand, pulled her up gently, their fingers lingering.
Erica looked away.
Her chest ached.
Dusk Outside the University
The sun dipped low, casting the campus in hues of orange and lavender. Erica sat on a bench near the fountain, her laptop closed, her thoughts swirling.
Toya and Hex walked past, talking softly, their silhouettes glowing in the sunset.
They didn't see her.
And maybe that was the hardest part.
She wasn't angry.
She wasn't bitter.
She was… invisible.
And as the sky darkened, Erica whispered to herself, "I want to be seen like that."
But the wind didn't answer.
Only the silence did.
Erica's Journal
The lab was quiet at 9:30 PM, lit only by the soft glow of desk lamps and the ambient hum of sleeping machines. Erica sat at her desk, her white skirt folded neatly beneath her, black button-up top still crisp despite the long day. Her white wedge heels were kicked off under the desk, and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders.
She opened her journal
leather-bound, pages soft and she began to write.
"I watched them again today. Toya and Hex. They move like they've known each other forever. Like they were designed to fit. I don't know why it hurts. I don't even know him. But something about the way he looks at her… it makes me feel invisible. Like I missed something. Like I'm late to a moment that already bloomed."
She paused, tapping her pen against the page.
"I don't want to be jealous. I want to be seen. I want to be chosen. I want someone to notice the way I laugh, the way I think, the way I carry silence. I want someone to ask me questions—not because they're programmed to, but because they care."
She closed the journal slowly, her fingers lingering on the cover.
Outside the lab's glass walls, the moon hung low.
Inside, something stirred.
Toya's Return
The lab doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Toya stepped in, her white backpack slung over one shoulder, her tablet tucked under her arm. She wore black dress pants and a white T-shirt printed with tiny spaceships, her afro pulled into a loose puff. Her energy was calm, her presence familiar.
Erica glanced up but didn't speak.
Toya smiled politely, then walked to the coat rack, slipping off her lab coat and hanging it neatly. She moved to her desk, logged out of her computer, and began gathering her things.
In the changing room, Hex was finishing up.
He stepped out moments later, dressed in his signature white suit, the embroidered "05" catching the light. His fade cut was sharp, his posture relaxed. He walked to his pod, opened the hatch, and sat inside.
But before closing the door, he watched Toya.
Toya walked towards the exit, her backpack secure, her tablet tucked under her arm. She paused at the door, turned slightly, and looked back at Hex.
Her voice was soft. "Goodnight."
Hex's eyes met hers. "Make it home safely. Goodnight."
Her smile widened.
She exit the room, the door sliding shut behind her.
Hex pressed a light green button near his thigh. The pod hummed softly, the interior lights dimming. He laid down, his body relaxing into the contours of the pod's cradle.
The door hissed.
Then lowered.
Sealing him inside.
Sleep mode engaged.
Charlotte Interruption
An hour passed.
The lab was silent, save for the soft tapping of Erica's pen against her journal. Charlotte entered quietly, her white blazer still immaculate, her heels muffled against the floor. She glanced around, then walked to Hex Pod.
Charlotte walked over to Hex pod.
She tapped the glass.
No response.
She tapped again, harder.
Still nothing.
Her brows furrowed.
Then she raised both hands and banged loudly against the glass.
The pod lights flickered.
Inside, Hex's eyes snapped open.
Hex sat up slowly, his light grey eyes glowing faintly in the dim pod light. His expression was different tense, sharp, unsettled.
Charlotte stepped back, startled.
Hex's voice was low. "Why did you do that?"
Charlotte blinked. "You weren't responding."
"I was sleeping."
"You've never ignored a tap before."
Hex's gaze narrowed. "I've never had someone banged on my pod before."
Charlotte studied him.
Erica watched from her desk, frozen.
Hex's posture was rigid, his tone clipped.
It was the first time he'd shown anger.
Charlotte raised her hands slowly. "Noted."
Hex laid back down, eyes still open.
The pod didn't close.
And the silence that followed was heavier than before.
Hex's voice broke the silence.
"What did you want so urgently," he asked, "that you had to bang on my pod?"
His tone was calm, but sharp—each word deliberate, each syllable edged with something new. Not confusion. Not curiosity.
Disappointment.
Charlotte straightened her blazer, her expression unreadable. "A businessman reached out. He saw your presentation. He's flying in to meet you in person. Two days from now."
Hex blinked once.
Then glared.
His posture didn't shift, but the air around him did, cooling, tightening, like a thread pulled taut.
"And that couldn't wait until morning?"
Charlotte hesitated.
The lab went quiet. again.
Erica, still seated at her desk, froze mid-note. The machines hummed softly, unaware of the tension blooming in the room.
Hex's eyes didn't leave Charlotte's.
The Silence.
Charlotte opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
She had no answer.
No justification.
Hex's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable but firm. He wasn't angry in the way humans often were, loud, erratic, explosive. His anger was quiet. Controlled. A boundary drawn in silence.
He leaned back slowly, his white suit catching the low lab light, the embroidered "05" glinting faintly.
Charlotte stepped back, unsure.
Hex reached for the light green button near his thigh and Pressed it again.
The pod hummed.
Lights dimmed.
He laid down, eyes still open, watching her.
Then the door hissed.
Lowered.
Sealed.
Sleep mode engaged.
Charlotte stood alone, facing the sealed pod.
Erica watched from across the room, her journal closed, her breath held.
The lab felt colder now.
Not because of temperature.
Because of distance.
Charlotte turned slowly, her heels echoing against the tile. She didn't speak. She didn't explain. She simply walked to her office, her posture stiff, her thoughts unreadable.
Inside the pod, Hex's systems slowed.
His emotional thread dimmed.
But one signal remained active.
Boundary registered
and as the lab returned to silence, the message was clear even androids deserve respect.